Blessed are the Peacekeepers
by Pointless Pencil
Summary: When the Templar Order falls, Knight-Lieutenant Marco Sarniani deserts to join the Inquisition. He discovered the Inquisitor is a girl from his past who made a lasting impression, and gave him the nickname he tried to rid himself off for years. His addiction, loss of faith and old loyalties plague him as he puts his life and heart on the line for the Inquisition, and the Inquisitor
1. Chapter 1

**Blessed are the Peacekeepers**

 **Chapter One: Chance Meeting**

When I woke up to the sound horse hooves, I was instantly alarmed. I had woken up to similar sounds plenty of times, but not in these parts. Ferelden was a strange place in many ways. While most nations of Thedas boasted proud cavalry traditions, Ferelden seemed to have, almost, a distaste for the equine arts. Oh, they made up for it. Their heavy infantry was brutal in battle, able to soak up a great deal of punishment and deliver a blow as hard as any charge by the Chevaliers, if slower.

A combination of battle-won instinct and pure exhaustion when I had set camp last night, saw me sleeping in my armor, with my helmet laying off to the side. I had also learned to sleep with a weapon handy, in case of surprise nighttime raids. ' _When in the field, you learn to be quick and prepared, or you die_ ' his old instructor had often said. I took a moment to identify the sound, and get to my feet without shaking too bad, sword in hand. Withdrawal was a bitch.

I could tell that there were more than one rider, by both the sound the horses made, and the approaching voices deep in conversation. I knew there might be no danger, but you do not travel as far and wide as I have, without developing a healthy sense of paranoia. I donned my helm and looked around for my shield, noting that I had propped it up against a tree trunk, my cloak wrapped around it to keep the runes from shimmering in the dark.

I was torn between leaving my gear and hiding, or trying to pack it up, when the choice was taken from me. Four riders atop strong destriers came around a bend in the forested road, and immediately spotted me. _Well, shit._ I could see it was a strange collection of a party. A heavily armored man with a massive black beard, a dwarf with a strange crossbow slung over his shoulder and displaying a truly inspiring amount of chest hair, and an elf with a seemingly permanent smirk on her lips. It was not the majestic chest-hair of the dwarf, or the warrior's prowess that got my attention, but the one leading them.

She was a lithe young woman, with wavy red hair flowing past her shoulders. She rode her steed with a comfort and confidence that bespoke nobility. She was fair of face from the distance, and had emerald eyes that was utterly captivating. However, her attractiveness and noble bearing was not why my eyes seemed glued to her. No. She was wearing robes, studded with metal plates and leather. I had seen the garb before, usually on aggressive practitioners of the arcane arts who were lobbing elemental forces in my general direction. After seeing a few of your comrades burned to a crisp or frozen solid, you develop a modicum of respect and skepticism of the mages, if not outright fear. If the Battlemage robes were not clue enough as to her profession, the staff strapped to a holster at the right hand-side of her mount left little doubt.

The company halted, startled by the sight of a fully armored Templar standing smack in the middle of their path. With naked steel bare for the world to see. Now, I am a good Templar. Not the best, but good. I had distinguished myself in training, served honorably guarding a couple of Circles, and spent years traversing Thedas, tracking, hunting and fighting. As I said, I am good, but I had no illusions about my chances against two archers, a cute but dangerous looking mage, and a steel clad brute who seemed to know how very well which end of the sword was the pointy one. The fact that they were mounted would also be an advantage in a fight.

Oh, I could give them a fight, to be sure, but I was far from my best. My shield was still propped against the trunk I had left it at last night, for one. Add to that the fact that I had ran out of lyrium three days ago, and I had a bad case of withdrawal. Some shaking, some fatigue, and a headache the size of an Archdemon. I was painfully reminded of a handful of wounds that had yet to heal. Add to that the small sporadically occurring episodes of delirium that hit me, and I had seen better days.

"Now, that's a surprise. What does a lone Templar do in these parts?" the dwarf chuckled.

"Want me to pierce 'im? He looks like he needs some piercing." The elf said, taking her bow in hand and reaching for an arrow.

"Hold on. Let's not just attack fellow travelers without cause. It's unseemly." The mage said. The elf bit back a retort, and she didn't notch the arrow, but her bow stayed firmly at the ready.

"The Templars do seem to have it out for you." The bearded fellow commented.

"You know I can hear you, right? You are, what? 40? 50 feet away, maybe?" I said, a little irritated.

"Oh! He speaks!" The dwarf smiled. The mage ignored her friends, looked me over and called out.

"Greetings, Ser Templar. Might we have your name?"

"Marco Sarniani, late Knight-Lieutenant of the Templar Order, at your service, Lady…?" I said while giving one of my best courtly bows and letting my statement turn to a question.

"Radine Trevelyan. What do you mean 'Late of the Templar Order'? Have you deserted?" The mage asked curiously, but at the sound of her name, I was suddenly taken far away, as a memory swam to the forefront of my mind.

Some years ago, when I had served in Ostwick after transferring from Antiva City, I had been sent to tack down an apprentice who had disappeared from the tower before curfew. It had been an easy task. While my partner ran off to fetch her phylanctery from storage, I had used the simple expediency of asking her dorm mates a few pointed questions, and just leaving the tower to comb the vast park complex. It had taken me half an hour to find her. I just followed the humming. I found a teenage girl with flame red hair, lost in her own world as she wandered through the park, stopping here and there to pick some of the various flowers that the Circle cultivated, both for their beauty and for use in potions.

I stood there for a few minutes, just watching, as she seemed to dance from flowerbed to flowerbed, humming a melody; I could have sworn I had heard before. I could see at once that the fears she had ran away to live as some sinister apostate was unfounded. It seemed more like a case of someone getting lost in their own head for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the magnificent park. I couldn't really blame the mages for that. Being stuffed in a dank old lighthouse tower had to be boring.

I approached her, halting just short of grabbing her by force. I was well within my rights to drag her back to the tower, kicking and screaming, but I much preferred to simply escort errant apprentices that had forgotten time and place. Force should always be your second option, my old drillmaster in Antiva had told me.

"A little late for a stroll amongst the Maker's beauty, isn't it?" I said in a friendly tone. I had expected her to stiffen in shock, maybe squeal a little. I am not proud of it, but I do have a sadistic mean streak. Instead, she caught me utterly by surprise. With a fierce snarl, she spun around, and before I even knew what was happening, she had put every ounce of strength her petite frame held, and swung her beautiful bouquet of freshly picked flowers with full force straight into my open-faced helmet. I had been about to introduce myself to her, and was rewarded by having my open mouth stuffed with various flora.

As I was sputtering, trying my best to clear my mouth and nostrils of a collection of flowery debris, a second swing of a much-reduced bouquet descended on me. I felt a sharp prick as a rose thorn tore a ragged, small line down my cheek.

"Andraste's twitching twat! Stop it!" I shouted. That brought her up short. Breathing heavily, she took a step back, saw my armor, etched and emblazed with the Flaming sword of Andraste. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she had just attacked a Templar, albeit with a very unconventional weapon, for a mage. After all, an offence like that warranted some hard punishment. Again, she surprised me. She crossed her arms and looked at me sternly, her emerald green eyes boring into my very soul for the audacity of interrupting her frolicking.

"You really shouldn't say such things, you know."

"What? Stop it? That's a very common request when assailed." I said befuddled, as I spat out another mouthful of petals.

"No. I mean that you really should not mention Andraste's…. twat… Twitching or otherwise."

I couldn't stop myself. I started laughing. She seemed a bit peeved at that.

"I'm sorry. You're right. Bad habit." I said, chuckling. "Comes with having a brood of bristling idiots for brothers. My instructors did their best to beat the habit out of me, but I fear they would be disappointed in my failings."

"Why are you here?" She asked, hands placed on her hips and seeming irritated.

"No apologies? You did just assault a Templar." I grinned. She just shrugged.

"You didn't announce yourself. You could have been a brigand for all I knew. Besides, I am allowed to wander the gardens, am I not?"

"Not after curfew." I said "And not without escort."

"Oh." She said, her gaze falling to her feet as she seemed to deflate a bit. "Damn. This will earn me a week stacking tomes." She muttered. To this day, I have no idea why, but it made me chuckle a bit.

"Oh, the punishment for runaway apostates attacking Templars are a bit more severe than stacking tomes." Ok, yeah. I was being an asshole. As I've said, I have a mean streak. Her eyes widened in fear at my words, and I could see she swallowed hard.

"What will they do to me?" she whispered.

"Oh, nothing too extreme for a first time offence, I think. This _IS_ your first offence, right?" I teased.

"No… I sometimes lose track of time in the gardens." She admitted as I lead her back towards the main gates. She looked properly worried and chastised when we arrived, the Knight Tempars at watch looking her over.

"The missing apprentice?" one of them said.

"Yeah. Found her in the park. Lost track of time." I answered. He nodded, then gave me a searching look.

"What happened to you? You're bleeding. She hit you?"

I could sense her tensing next to me, looking down, not daring to meet the on-duty Templars' gaze.

"Oh, this?" I said, wiping a line of blood from my cheek. A white rose petal smeared with blood stuck to my finger. "Nay. Lost my footing. Stumbled into a rosebush. Nasty little things, really. So small and pretty, but they have quite the sting."

A few days later, as I came off a shift patrolling the outer wall, I found a single white rose on my pillow in my barracks, with a short note saying _Thank you_. I had always wondered how the Blight she had managed to sneak into the Templar barracks. I had left Ostwick a few months later, after overseeing a few Harrowings that went badly. My Knight-Commander had been impressed by my evenhanded approach to the mages, as well as my unflinching approach to duty. I suppose chopping the head off a couple possessed mages was impressive to some. At any rate, I had left Ostwick with a company of trackers and a nickname that would stick with me through my travels. Ser Rose.

I snapped back to the present. I could tell that it had taken me a few moments longer than normal to respond, and I just started chuckling to myself. The years had transformed her from the slightly scrawny teenager I remembered to a grown young woman.

"He's daft, yeah? Just standing there like a statue and bursting out laughing. It aint normal." The elf commented.

"He does seem… Addled." The stoic warrior agreed.

I sheathed my blade, and let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. I removed my full-faced helmet and grinned at the mage.

"At least you didn't smack me full in the face with whatever shrubbery was handy this time, Lady Trevelyan."

Her eyes widen a bit in recognition, and she seemed taken aback. She led her mount slowly closer, her eyes studying me.

"Ser Rose?" She asked.

"Always hated that name. You have no idea how hard it is to portrait being a strong, indomitable knight, when your comrades call you Ser Rose." I said, shaking my head.

"You know this... Mad Templar?" the warrior asked, riding up in support of his leader.

"Yeah. He was at Ostwick for a while. Caught me out in the gardens after curfew once."

I chuckled. I knew that some of my humor was relief. I was certain I was not about to be stuck by lightning or splashed with arcane fire. Some of it may have been the delirium that was part of withdrawal for a lyrium addict. "She smacked me repeatedly in the face with flowers, before chewing me out over my choice of profanity." I said.

That brought a smile to her lips. I noted that the beauty I had ascribed to her from a distance did her no justice. She was truly beautiful.

"Well, you did use some very blasphemous descriptions."

" _After_ you stuffed a rose garden down my throat."

"Hardly. Just a few roses. Some wildflowers. And an elfroot or two." She snorted. "But, why are you here? And why alone? I thought most of your order relocated to Therinfal Redoubt."

My smile fell. "Yeah. We did." I felt dizzy. There was a tremor in my right hand, and my headache made itself known with a vengeance. I must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing I remembered, I was firmly planted on my ass on the ground. Radine leap off her horse and approached me, to the protests of her companions.

"Don't! He may still attack!" The bearded brute, concern in his voice. She ignored them.

"Ser Rose? Are you alright?" she asked, taking a knee beside me.

"I hate that name." I muttered blinking a few times as my vision reasserted itself. "Been better. It will pass." I said, my voice thankfully not sounding as weak as I felt in that moment. "You wouldn't happen to have some lyrium on you, would you?"

"Lyrium? I thought you Templars brought plenty of the stuff on your travels."

"Yeah. As to that. You asked, and I shall answer." I said, steeling myself. "As you may know, Lord Seeker Lucius took direct control over the Order, after the conclave. We received orders to march and muster at Therinfal Redoubt. That's when the trouble started." I took a deep breath and launched into the tale. About how we had gathered. About how some of our number had started acting strange, before… changing. About how a few of us, concerned at the way the ranking officers were behaving, discovered the murdered corpse of the Knight-Vigilant, assumed lost at the Conclave. I told them how we had discovered Lucius had replaced our lyrium supply with tainted red lyrium.

The story took a while in the telling, and while I did so, the others dismounted and gathered around in the dirt. They were shocked and appalled at all the right places. From time to time, one of them would interject to ask a question. A good audience, all things considered.

"- So when they came for us, we fought our way free and scattered. We make for Haven, to warn the Inquisition. I'm not sure how many of us are left. We just took whatever supplies we could and got the Blight away from that _FUCKING_ madman. The pure lyrium was the first of our supplies to run out." I finished, gratefully accepting a wineskin from the dwarf. They were silent for a while, looking at each other.

"What?" I asked.

"Well. If you were looking for the Inquisition, you've found it." The dwarf said. "May I introduce Lady Radine Trevelyan, of House Trevelyan, Late of the Ostwick Circle of Magi, Inquisitor and leader of the Inquisition."

I started at her dumbfounded for a moment before I barked out a short laugh.

"Well, well. Someone has risen high in the world." I said. "So you're the famed Herald of Andrate. I never would have guessed."

"That's all?" She said skeptically. "No lecture? No _'Magic exists to serve man, not rule over him'_ bullshit?"

"That became moot the moment the Conclave were blown to high heaven and the fucking sky tore open to spew demons into the world, don't you think?" I chuckled mirthlessly. "I have lost much since Ostwick. Brothers, blood, friends and faith. I care not who stops this madness, as long as it is stopped. Be it Templar, mage, mabari of Queen of the freaking Fairies. And from where I'm standing,- pardon me. Sitting; the Order failed miserably on that front."

She just studied my face for a moment, before she seemed to make a decision.

"Well. Ser Marco Sarniani. I hereby offer you a place among the Inquisition. We'll need every blade we can get, and strong arms to swing them." She said, standing up and offering her hand. With a heartfelt grin, I took it and got shakily to my feet.

"In that case, Inquisitor. Consider me yours to swing."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Road to Haven

We spent some time sharing a meal of road-rations. Dried meat, hard cheese and travel bread, washed down with some truly exquisite wine. For those of you who have not spent a lot of time on the road, the sharing of a meal and wine is as close to a divine ritual as one can get. I wolfed my portion down with enthusiasm. I had gotten by with scavenged roots, stale and slightly moldy bread and some bugs for days. When you spend your life tracking runaways to the ends of Thedas, you are bound to run out of supplies at some point, and you either learn to survive, or your bones adorn some Maker forsaken dessert, forest or tundra floor.

We chatted and got to know each other a bit. I learned that the elf was a weird little devil with a mischievous nature and a hunger for putting several shafts with Bodkin points in any armored fools she found annoying. I had a suspicion that that list was the length of the Chant of Light. Sera was her name, and she was by far the most… unique… elf I had ever met.

Varric was a fun fellow, for a dwarf. Usually, his lot tends to be… off. Varric was weird too, by all means, but in a good way. He had a thousand stories, none of them the same and all of them dancing on the edge of truth and lies. When he spoke, you paid attention. He would have made a decent penny in the theatres of Val Royeaux.

The stoic warrior turned out to be a grey warden. I had a deep and abiding respect for their ranks, as I had fought shoulder to shoulder with them on several occasions. He struck me as a highly competent lone wolf. I almost chocked on my wine when he was introduced as Blackwall. I was so sure that the name was a joke about his big, bushy beard.

My new companions were all mounted, and I, sadly, had not had a mount for weeks. However, where there is a will there is a way, and It was decided that I could ride double. I was excited by that, thinking I would get to spend the day cozying up to the beautiful young mage. I tried very hard to hide my disappointment as I rattled along down the road, plastered ass to elbow with a chest-hairy dwarf, smelling vaguely of cheese and spirits, being poked by his Bianca. You have no idea how relieved I was to find out that Bianca was his fancy crossbow.

But my feet were weary, my body worn out, and the prospect of having someone else do the tedious walking for me for a while was almost as tempting as a healthy helping of refined Lyrium. If the price for that was to grind up against Varric as he cracked jokes, it was a price barely worth paying.

I won't bore you with too many details of the road. It was a road, like so many other roads, but with far less travelers than usual. It snaked its way through rocky hills and forests. Past rivers and lakes. Here and there was a crossroad. Boring stuff.

We made camp an hour or two before dusk, just off the road and nestled between an outcropping of exposed bedrock and a stand of trees. While Blackwall and I tended to the horses, unsaddling them and brushing them down for the evening, Sera and Varric set out to find a goodly supply of firewood, while Radine set up for cooking. We enjoyed a stew of salted pork, onions, beans, potatoes and carrots. Not the fanciest of dining experiences, but hearty and tasty enough.

I volunteered to take the first watch, as my twitching self had a hard enough time to relax, let alone sleep without being exhausted. I set up at a relatively comfortable rock, took out my pipe and tobacco pouch, and felt somewhat peaceful as I set about packing it. I was just stirring to get a branch from the fire to light it, when the contents of the bowl burst into a short blast of fire, and started smoldering. Radine sat down next to me, studying my face as I puffed away at the pipe and nodded my thanks to her.

"So, Ser Rose. Where have you been since you left fair Ostwick?" She said, fishing the pipe from my hand and taking a drag.

"All over, really. I have been to the Anderfels, Orlais, Ferelden, Nevarra, Rivain, Antiva… I even spent some time in the Tevinter Imperium. Weird place." I answered, taking my pipe back as it was offered.

"Hunting mages?" She asked sarcastically.

"At times." I admitted. "My company was tasked with tracking down abominations, blood cults, necromancers and the like. We tracked down some fugitive mages too, at times. On occasion we would find fledgling mages, just coming into their powers, and escort them to the nearest circle."

"Bloody work then." She stated.

"When it was called for."

"You know… there is going to be more than a few mages at Haven. Free mages." She said, fishing for something.

"I figured as much." I took a deep drag, letting it out again slowly, savoring the fine herbs.

"My Lady Trevelyan, what are you getting at?" I asked a bit testily. I had a headache brewing.

"Frankly, Ser Sarniani? I need to be sure that you will not start falling into old ways, chaining up my colleagues or running them through if you see them doing things you may object to."

I couldn't help it. I started chuckling at that.

"Oh, aye. We couldn't have the big bad Templar running about, setting the fear of the Maker in every scullery-maid with a hint of ability now, could we?" She was about to throw herself into an argument when I chuckled again and held up my free hand in surrender.

"Fret not. As I told you. The old order came tumbling down like a ton of bricks the moment the fucking sky was torn apart like a wet piece of parchment."

"You really believe that?" She asked, a little shocked I think.

"My Lady, what do you know of me?" I asked, curious.

"Honestly? We heard rumors from time to time, of Ser Rose and his murderous band, rooting out mages in the wilds and sending them screaming to damnation at the point of their blades." She said, her tone cold.

"I will admit. My men and I had one of the highest success rates. But we weren't cold-blooded killers. We didn't track down defenseless mages and chop their heads off. We went after the nastiest monsters magic can offer. We went after mages possessed by demons. We went after mages using blood sacrifices to fuel their spells. We went after mages who slaughtered entire hamlets, to then raise their corpses. Mages who tortured and killed, cut open pregnant women while they were still alive, removing organs and inflicting unimaginable pain and suffering. When we were sent to track down runaways, we returned them to their circles, unmaimed and unharmed. When we found wild mages or those who's abilities had just awakened, we brought them to where they could receive training." I kept my voice calm, but I felt annoyed at the implicit accusation.

"Then why did you leave Ostwick, if not for the joy of killing mages?!" She almost shouted.

"What?" I asked, taken aback.

"I asked about you! I was told you requested the transfer to be able to hunt and kill!"

"What?" I repeated.

"Your friends were so proud and gloating about it. About how you struck the heads off Jarvor, Irna, Betta, Horval and Ervin." She accused, her eyes wet, as she ticked off the names of fellow mages who had failed their harrowings. "Dala, my friend, overheard how you had argued with the knight-captain over MY harrowing. Were you going to kill me too?!" She almost shrieked.

I was completely taken off guard. So many emotions welled up in me that I had trouble making heads or tails of them.

"That's what you think?" I managed after a pregnant silence. "I left Ostwick, in part because of your harrowing. I had been assigned to it. I had a reputation for non-hesitancy at that point. When your fellow apprentices failed and were possessed, I did what I had to. But when I learned I was to be a regular part of that… That… that damnable ritual, I wanted to be assigned other duties."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Especially after Irna. She… took too long. I was ordered to strike her head off, as the knight-commander decided she was most likely in the process of being possessed. Just before my blade struck, she startled awake… I don't know if she was possessed or not, but had I waited but a few moments longer I would have known."

"That's…. That's horrible!" She blurted. "You just killed her, without knowing?!"

"Yes. I was young and inexperienced. I trusted my commanding officers to a fault. They had served much longer, had all the answers and the experience to make judgement calls. But it haunted me, not knowing if I had killed an innocent woman or not. So I requested a transfer. I became a tracker. Hard work, but clearer. If the mage we hunted fought us or was demonstrably evil, we would kill them with no regrets. If they were peaceful and surrendered, we'd bring them back to the circles. Simple."

We sat in silence for a while, my words hanging like a fog between us as she worked through them. After what seemed like hours, she finally stood and turned to face me.

"Thank you for your candor. You have given me much to reflect on. Get some rest. I'll take the watch." Before she stomped off to the other side of the campsite.

I repacked and lit my pipe, leaning back to stare at the skies, looking at the deep vastness of the heavens to find some source of inspiration or guidance on how to proceed. If the maker was watching from up high, he remained silent on the topic. The Maker had a tendency to be silent to all but the insane, I thought to myself as I enjoyed the silence and the smoke, staring up at the vastness of the heavens.


End file.
